So one of my college buddies walked down the aisle recently and despite my being happy for her, the whole thing put my life in a rather harsh perspective. As I sat there in church (which I haven’t done in a long time…Hark!), I thought of the one thing that has eluded me for some time: my putrid excuse for a love life. Yes, I have been single for the past 23 years, 4 months, and 18 days. Unless I count my sandbox buddy back in kindergarten who so presumptuously called me his “girlfriend” despite the numerous encounters he’s had with my fist (Men. Go figure!), which i don’t. Luckily for him, I had no idea what a girlfriend was back then or he would’ve never lived to see the first grade [disclaimer: I have since then evolved to be a more peaceful person]. While being single in your twenties awards you with a freedom you can never hope to have again, I have formulated several theories as to why I seem to have a talent for sending them running for the hills:
1. The conspiracy theory – could it be that all the boys I’ve beaten to tears back in my grade school playground congregated and implored the high heavens that I may be cursed to personify the fat-single-lady-with-a-gazillion-cats cliche? wait a minute!! I already have a cat…Thank god he’s male and possibly gay which kills any possibility of uncontrollable feline reproduction (I bet you didn’t see that one coming, suckers!! ***thunder, lightning, evil laughter***). and in my defense, I was provoked…I was…Really.
2. The mixed signals theory – maybe there has been a miscommunication with the signals I’ve been giving off. Instead of “take me, I’m yours”, it reads “I have a crossbow with poison-tipped arrows stashed in my bra…I’m giving you a 30 second head start” [side comment: as much as it pains me to say this, there is no way in hell my bra could ever hold medieval weaponry...so there]. If this turns out to be true, the only way around it is to dye my hair blond, bat my eyelashes incessantly, and refrain from using words more than 5 letters long. In the words of Paris, there is nothing fair about my life.
3. The subliminal sabotage theory – why is it that if i so much as find someone remotely attractive, he could never just be unattached? And this happens 100% of the time. In the meantime, I keep getting set up with guys who turn out to be soap bubbles (one minute there, the next minute gone. Oh well…Takes care of my problem). Could it be that I’m subconsciously snuffing out all possibilities by throwing in the roadblock commonly known as ‘the girlfriend’? Maybe my life is just too pleasant and uncomplicated to get tainted with mush. Or maybe the Forces that Be are testing my patience with too many encounters with the weird kind (I think I should change my cologne). Although a friend a.k.a. Yoda once told me, and this is in no way a reflection of what any of us do in real life, ‘madaling mahuli ang manok na nakatali’. Then again, after what those playground freaks did to me, I’m terrified of the karmic lightning bolt that’ll subsequently fry me to a crisp.
Whatever the reason, all I can really say for myself is this: I have made a lot of boys cry. Just not for any of the obvious reasons.
